


Fond Farwell

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chance and CJ leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fond Farwell

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Ouch! #13 and later in Watch Your Six #5 with Mary Fallon Zane.

He never thought watching Chance and C.J. disappear down the ramp to their waiting plane would hurt as much as it did.  But he was honestly happy for them; they had come to their senses and decided to get out while they still had all their working parts intact.  He couldn't call that anything but smart.  They deserved to retire to Hawaii.  They deserved to build whatever kind of life they wanted for themselves – apart or together – in paradise.

But some part of him had always assumed that they would go on together, taking various missions from Trout until they were… what, old and gray?

          He snorted softly to himself.  Yeah, like _that_ was likely.  He knew that, in all likelihood, he would be dead before he saw forty-five.  And the same was true for anyone else in his line of work.  But Chance and C.J. were in their early thirties, they had long lives ahead of them, if they got out now, while they were still whole and healthy.

All in all, they had been incredibly lucky over the past three plus years.  He added up their time together, curious how long the run had actually lasted, and came up with thirty-eight months.  Three years, two months.

He shook his head.  So much had happened to them in that time, to all of them.  But they had done some good work, too, had helped some good people who might otherwise have been killed, or forgotten.

But now it was over.

He sighed heavily, deciding that he didn't want to wait to see the plane pull away from the gate.  That would be too hard, too final.

He turned and headed out of the airport, wondering why he had never thought about quitting himself, but that was too uncomfortable, so he turned his musing on the last two remaining members of his team.

Margo Vincent.  Had she ever thought about quitting?

Probably, he decided, when she was in love with Noah, or maybe after one or more of her worse cases.  But she was a field agent, body and soul.  She wouldn't be happy anywhere but in the action.  At least, he hoped that was the case.

And Benny Ray Riddle, he was sure the sniper had never thought about quitting.  Benny Ray had been tossed out, fighting all the way, and was more than ready to get back into the thick of it when offered the opportunity.

No, he didn't have to worry about Margo and Benny Ray deciding to pack it in.  At least, he hoped he didn't.

That just left him.  What did _he_ want?

He was an operator.  It was in his blood.  In every fiber of his being.  But he had had to admit to himself that he had thought about hanging it up on more than one occasion.

In the parking lot, he climbed into his vintage black 'Vette and headed back to Hermosa Beach.

It was hard _not_ to think about retiring when you almost die, and eight rounds to his legs had put him as close to death as he ever wanted to come.

Maybe that was why Chance had been so willing to give retirement in paradise a try.  He had sat down with the Grim Reaper himself in that South American jungle.

He shook his head.  How the man had managed to land that plane that day, he still didn't know.  And despite the fact that the doctor had told them later that Chance's heart hadn't really stopped that night, he wasn't so sure.  Even if it hadn't actually stopped, it had come close enough for the pilot to get a glimpse at eternity, just like he had, when he'd gotten shot.

And facing your own mortality was a powerful motivation.  It made you sit up and take notice of your priorities.  You couldn't help but think about what you were doing with your life, and Chance had clearly come to the conclusion that what they did wasn't enough for him; he needed something more.

Well, he just hoped that whatever meaning the pilot was looking for, he was able to find it in Hawaii – in the beauty of the sunsets, in a loving relationship, in the simple joys of living in a place that was so beautiful.

C.J. hadn't faced death like Chance had, but he had certainly danced with the Devil.  Being taken prisoner in Libya for a second time, facing the ghost of his dead brother, those events would be enough to shake anyone's foundation, make anyone think twice about putting his life on the line again.

But Margo and Benny Ray had had their close calls as well.  So why were they hanging in there with him instead of heading off to their own versions of paradise?

He didn't have a good answer, and that made him nervous.  What if they changed their minds, too?  What if actually knowing that Chance and C.J. were gone tipped the balance for them?

Or was he just projecting his own inner fears onto them?

He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the flow of traffic.  There was really no use worrying about it, either Margo and Benny Ray stuck it out, or they didn't.  There was nothing he could do to tip the balance one way or the other.  Was there?

But he couldn't help hoping that they would decide to stay.

And there was nothing to stop Chance and C.J. from coming back if they got bored.  After all, they had only asked for a year off.  And it was hard to imagine that they would be able to leave the work behind any longer than that.  They were operators, too.  The rush, the – what did that old TV character call it?  Oh yeah, the "jazz" – and the feeling of making a difference had to be there for them, just like it was for him.  It was a good feeling, too.  But obviously it wasn't enough, not by itself in any case.

He had to believe that they would be back.

Passing a slow-moving mini-van, he smiled.  They had given the two men one hell of a send off, though, complete with party, gifts, and a list of names of people they could contact in the Islands if they ran into any trouble.  Chance and C.J. had certainly seemed to enjoy it all.

He could tell they were feeling guilty, the closer their departure day got, which was why he had wanted to throw the party for them.  He wanted them to know that he had no hard feelings about their decision, and he was pretty sure they understood that now.

But no matter what he said or did, their retirement had left a large hole in his life – in all their lives.

Over the past three years they had become a family of sorts, and now two of the members of that family were gone.  And that hurt – badly.

He pushed the depressing thought away.

Life would go on.  Oh sure, their missions would be different, three people couldn't do as much as five, but they could still make a difference.  They could still be operators.

Maybe he should consider adding a couple of new players to the mix?

No, he immediately decided.  It was way too soon for that.  They would need some time to adjust, get over the sting their departure left.  Then, maybe, he could think about finding a couple of operators to fill in until Chance and C.J. returned.  It wasn't like he didn't know people he could ask, and most, if not all of them, would say yes.

But he would have to ask Margo and Benny Ray about it before he made any calls.  They might not want to bring in a couple of temps.  They might not want to do anything at all.

He softly cursed his paranoia as he shook his head.  They weren't going to walk out on him.

Leaning forward, he twisted the knob on the radio, oldies music helping take his mind off the situation for a few moments.  Then he was thinking again.

Why was he so determined to keep going?  What was he trying to prove?

That he still had what it took?  That the shooting hadn't left him… what?  Impotent?  Castrated?  Not literally, but emotionally.  After all, there were those lingering doubts that haunted him late at night when he was tired and his defenses were down: Did he still have what it took?  Could he pull his weight?  Would he freeze when he came under fire?  Was he over-compensating?  Had he covered all the bases?

It was frustrating, and annoying.  And, he admitted to himself, there was a part of him that couldn't help but wonder if Chance and C.J. hadn't lost their faith in him.  Maybe that was what had _really_ promoted their retirement.

He huffed and shook his head.  That was defeatist thinking, and something he couldn't afford.  He would end up dead a lot sooner if he kept that up.

Realizing that he was coming up on his exit, he forced himself to concentrate on the traffic until he was off the freeway and on his way to the Silver Star on surface streets.  Thankfully, there weren't too many other cars on the streets, making the trip faster than usual.  The unusually cool weather at the end of November made the beach less attractive to locals and tourists alike.

Home.  He was headed home.  But it was going to feel… different.  Odd.

Both Chance and C.J. had left a good deal of their personal stuff stored in their suites at the old hotel, but there was still going to be a new feeling of emptiness in the building with the two men gone.  And that left him with a slight feeling of dread that haunted him the rest of the way to the old hotel.

At the back of the building he pulled in and parked behind Margo's maroon Jag.  Benny Ray's bright red Dodge Ram was also there.  He sat in the car for a moment, not wanting to go inside.  Going inside meant accepting that everything had changed.

But he couldn't put it off forever either, so he forced himself to climb out of the car and walked over to the door that led directly to the basement via a short flight of stairs.

He opened the door, which was unlocked, telling him that Margo and Benny Ray were there, and not out on the beach for a run, or down at the church, helping Father Bob with the priest's latest project.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the presence of the others.  There was a part of him that really wanted some time alone.  But another part really needed to be with them, to reassure himself that they were going to stick with him.

 _If_ they stuck with him.

He stopped that line of thought and purposefully headed down the stairs.  At the bottom, he stopped, glancing around.  Everything looked normal.

But what did he expect?  It wasn't like Chance and C.J. had taken the furniture with them.

Still, he hadn't expected it to feel so normal, and he felt a shadow of depression tease at the edges of his consciousness.

With a deep breath he headed for his office, wondering briefly where Margo and Benny Ray were, although if they weren't in the basement, the door should have been locked…  He paused halfway to his office and glanced around again.  It might look normal, but something was wrong.

He was ready to call out and start looking for the pair when he spotted Benny Ray stepping out of the kitchen, carrying a platter.

"'Bout time you got back," the sniper said.  "Was afraid these might get cold."

He looked at the platter again, noting the three large t-bone stakes.  "What's all this?"

"We thought you might like some company," he heard Margo say.

He stepped forward so he could see around his office to the large wooden table they used for meals and mission briefings.  Margo was standing there, putting the finishing touches on the table setting.  There were baked potatoes, salad, bread, and what looked like a freshly baked apple pie waiting for him.  All his favorites, but he was sure they had picked the pie up somewhere – neither Margo nor Benny Ray were the baking types.

He smiled thinly.  "Company, huh?"

"What's the matter?" Benny Ray asked.  "Not in the mood for a steak?"

He grinned.  "Always in the mood for steak."

"That's what I was hopin' you'd say."

He walked over and took his usual seat at the table, but couldn't help glancing at the two empty seats.

"It does feel kind of… odd," Margo said, noting the direction of his glances.

"Yep," the sniper agreed.

"Matt?" Margo asked a few moments later.

"Uh, yeah," he agreed, trying to concentrate on the meal.

"They get off okay?" she asked.

Matt nodded.

They ate in silence for several minutes, then Benny Ray ventured the question he and Margo had been worrying over.  "So, we gonna call it quits, or keep goin'?"

Matt looked up, meeting the man's penetrating blue gaze.  "What do you want to do?" he asked, his heart suddenly pounding like he had just run a marathon.

"Keep goin'," the sniper replied immediately.

Matt looked to Margo, meeting her equally intense green gaze.  "And you?"

"Same," she answered.

They wanted to keep going.  They wanted to stick with him.  So, what did he want?

He looked from Margo to Benny Ray, then said, "I'll admit, I was a little worried that you two might decide to call it quits, too.  Hell, I even thought about it myself, but… I can't.  This is what I am.  I want to keep doing what we do."

"Have t' make some changes," Benny Ray said softly.

Matt nodded.  "Granted, but we can still do plenty.  If you're sure."

"We're sure," Margo told him.

He smiled, relief flooding though him, warming the chill fear he had felt around his heart.  "Glad to hear it."

They were operators.  And they were family.  He wasn't going to lose either, and he knew his two prodigals would come home, too.  Twelve months, what was that?  It would pass in no time.  And until then, he just had to make sure the rest of them stayed safe, while they got the job done.

He could do that, because he sure as hell wasn't going to lose his family.  Not now.

"This is great," he said.

"Yep," Benny Ray agreed.

"Leave room for pie," Margo cautioned.  "We picked it up from Marie Callender's."

"Sounds wonderful," Matt said, smiling.


End file.
